A/N: It's finally here! Long story short, the original document for the second part somehow got erased completely from my computer and I had to rewrite it from scratch. Sorry in advance for any repeated phrases and mistakes.
The M-ness of this chapter isn't so big that I'm changing the rating, but if you've got sensitive eyes, it gets kinda racy for a bit down near the end.
Thank you so, so much for the support of the first part! You all blew me away!
I really, really hope you guys like this! It was annoying to have to recreate, but I think it's got some merit. At least a little.
Have fun!
You can help me out,
I want to love you again.
'Cause I feel so cold without sun,
And you're the one I can't run from.
Killing Me | The Kooks
The Dentist and The Tooth-Fairy
Part Two
Camille is staring at me again. But this time, I note, it isn't with lust or longing. It's with sorrow. A melancholy gaze, fixed right on me.
It is making me extremely uncomfortable.
"Is something the matter, Camille?" I ask her, scribbling my signature on yet another form and handing it back to my blonde assistant.
She shakes her head, but even that movement overshadowed by gloom. "Nothing, no," she says, and I definitely don't believe her. "I've got a question, though."
I raise an eyebrow. "And what question is that?"
In the five years she's worked for me, I've gotten quite used to seeing Camille's I'm-Going-To-Ask-You-Something-Personal face. So, when she begins blinking incredibly slowly as she stands in front of my desk, and starts lathering her lips with too much saliva, my heart sinks. The last time she got it into her head that she wanted to know something personal about me, I heard her crying in the bathroom after she left my office.
"That Caroline woman, is she your girlfriend?"
My hand runs off the page I was in the middle of signing, trailing blue ink across the clean paper. I stare at the line, then at my incomprehensible signature, and then up at a furiously-blushing Camille. Funnily enough, I feel my own cheeks heating.
Except it isn't funny, because I. Do. Not. Blush.
Glancing at the calendar, I note it's been nearly two months since I met Caroline. Christmas is just around the corner. Snow falls outside the building while children huddle near their fireplaces, all awaiting Santa Claus's return.
Since we met on Hallowe'en, we've been bumping into each other more and more. By accident, of course. I don't seek her out. Not intentionally at least. Perhaps once or twice I absentmindedly went to a place (a bar or a restaurant) because Bekah mentioned in passing it was one of Caroline's favourite spots in our small town, and the blonde fairy just so happened to be there at the same time.
Mostly, though, the reason we see one another is due to Rebekah's poor scheduling skills. The girl's plans overlap, meaning I typically end up at a café with Bekah and Caroline, or Caroline finds herself barging in on mine and Bekah's lunch.
One time, after my little sister had disappeared to the toilet, Caroline whispered that she thinks Bekah is scheming to get us together. I told her Rebekah isn't that smart.
Secretly, of course, I pray Caroline is right. Bekah has said nothing to me of her plans (not that she would), but it does seem awfully strange how often she double books Caroline and myself.
For someone who's spent practically their whole life avoiding relationships and women like Caroline, I've found my thoughts drifting towards her more often than not. If there's a lull at the dentistry, I can't help but think of her.
Her hair; the way she smells; how her eyes glow against the sunshine. The soft voice she uses when she speaks to me.
She frightens me, for no other reason than these feelings are utterly alien. It's almost as if I've been replaced by the teenage version of myself. The person I used to be when Katherine was my whole world.
The fool I used to be.
I can't honestly compare this—this . . . thing . . . with Caroline—to my relationship with Katherine, though. Back then I was nothing more than a lost teenager aching for human contact. I was alive with hormones and lust, and Katherine was the only girl in a thousand miles to approach me and make me hers.
Today I'm an honest businessman, working hard to get money and stay upright in this downturned world. I still itch for a woman's touch, but the urge isn't so strong anymore. I don't crave the company of other women like I used to.
To be honest, though, it's been months since I've had sex, and it's beginning to wear me down. At first I was too busy to bother looking for a one-nighter, no matter how desperate I was to release the pent-up sexual energy inside of me. But, as time went on and I began spending more time with Caroline, I just stopped searching for potential one night stands. I didn't want the women I saw anymore.
I still don't, four months after my last romp.
And it's because of her.
And that's terrifying.
I don't know what's happening to me. It's like I've been switched with someone else. I am still in my body, but my mind—my heart; my soul—is not my own.
Christ, I'm turning into Elijah. Poor, pathetic, married-with-a-kid Elijah.
Even worse, I'm turning into Camille. The girl who's spent the last four years trying to gain my attention. The girl staring at me, waiting for my answer.
I need to stop pining after the tooth-fairy. It's unmanly. Unbecoming. Unrequited, I'm sure.
Desperation does not suit me well. Because if I've realised anything in the past two months since our paths crossed at the Grill on Hallowe'en night, it's that what began as innocent flirtation and attraction has transformed into sticky, lamentable romantic attachment.
I find myself shaking my head and saying, "No. Of course not, Camille. When have you ever seen me with a girlfriend?"
The words come out harsher than I mean, like I'm attempting to spew my feelings for Caroline out of my mouth by raising my voice at Camille.
I take a deep breath. "Sorry," I say, meaning it. "But no, Camille. She is just a patient."
A patient with the most glorious teeth I've ever seen.
Teeth that take up her whole smile, that automatically brighten her face.
Camille silently hands me a fresh form to sign. I look over the paper, my mind somewhere else, and scribble my signature.
"Do you think that form is okay?" I point to the inked paper I'd been signing when Camille asked her question. "With the line of pen?"
Smiling sadly at me (does she ever smile happily at me?) Camille says, "Yeah, it'll be fine. I'll white it out."
I nod. "Thanks, Cami," I say, knowing my use of her nickname will automatically make her feel better.
She looks as though she's about to say something—perhaps ask me on another date without actually asking me on a date—but the phone begins ringing out in reception. Camille places the stack of paper in her hands on my desktop and scurries out of the room, leaving the scent of her overpowering perfume in her wake.
I mindlessly sign paper after paper in my office as Camille busies herself with double checking appointments and writing postcards for the patients who are in need of a checkup. I've had a fairly light schedule today. Three patients, all who ended up needing fillings. Two I got done there and then, but one we've needed to make an extra appointment for.
It's almost closing time when I glance at my phone and notice a missed call from Bekah. Wondering what on earth she might need this time, I pick the device up and call her back.
She picks up on the second ring. "Brother, what's happening, dog?"
I close my eyes, tight. "Where do you come up with these greetings?"
"The 21st century, Nik. They're everywhere," she says spookily.
"They don't suit your accent, Bekah. Trust me."
I hear her click her tongue in disappointment. "Fine, I'll stop with the weird phrases."
"Thank you. Now, why did you call me earlier?"
"There's a Christmas party I want you to come to."
I lean back in my chair, watching Camille pack her things. "When is it?"
Bekah pauses, which annoys me. She's never been very good at finishing her sentences. I've wanted to get her checked for her attention issues since she was a child, but that never happened.
"It's tonight," she says eventually. "Right now, actually."
A sort of gurgling noise rises in my throat. I lift my free hand to my face and rub my temples with my forefinger and thumb. This is such a Rebekah thing to do. Spring an invite on me to a party that just so happens to be in full swing when she asks me to join her.
"It's tonight?" I ask, annoyed.
"Yes. That a problem? It's not going to end for a while, so if you want to arrive a bit late I won't mind."
"Why couldn't you have asked me, I don't know, a week ago? Yesterday? This morning, even?"
She doesn't respond to my questions. Instead, she says two measly little words that have me out of my seat and tearing off my white coat, asking hurriedly where the party is being held.
Rebekah laughs at me through the phone, but I can't find it in myself to care. "Take a wild guess."
I look out my office window at the Grill. Green and red and white lights string around the building. A line has formed. People freezing in their festive outfits wait for the bouncer—a different one from Hallowe'en—to grant them access to the world inside the most popular nightclub in our town.
"I'll be there in a minute," I say.
"Okay, I'll let Caroline know you're coming. She'll be happy to see you," Bekah says, and I know she's smiling.
.1.
"Did you have to pay the bouncer to let you in again?" Caroline asks as she approaches me, taking in my work attire with a small smile. Her brows pull together the tiniest bit in confusion, but I'm not about to tell her I came running before Camille even shut the dentistry door just so I could see her.
I want to kiss her, I think again, again, again. It seems I'm unable to be in a room with her for more than one second before that dangerous thought enters my mind.
She's dressed in a strapless red cocktail dress with some intricate, flowery design on its top. It comes in at her waist before flowing out like a ballerina's tutu. The skirt—which looks scratchy and almost uncomfortable—ends mid-thigh, giving my eyes a good glimpse of her strangely attractive knees. Even at Christmas she looks like a fairy.
I, on the other hand, have on a blue button-up and black slacks. Not Christmassy in the slightest.
Swallowing thickly, I shake my head, praying she can't see the quivering vein in my neck. "I think they know I'm a VIP at this point. I simply walk to the rope and it swings aside for me," I lie. I paid fifty dollars to get in tonight ahead of the line. But I won't admit that.
Caroline grins warmly. It soothes me somehow, to see those pearly teeth secretly laughing at my horrendous joke. Her lips tonight are a pale pink and match the tint in her cheeks. I wonder if her blush is a result of the drink in her hand or me.
We settle into a silence. I spend my time watching Caroline as she twitches and fidgets. She drains her glass, her head poking around the packed club, most likely in search of my sister.
"I'm going to head to the bar and grab myself a drink," I say as the silence drags on too long. It's charged with something. And I don't like it. I stare at the empty glass in Caroline's hand. "Do you want a refill?"
Caroline startles, as if she hasn't really been with me in the room until just then. Her eyelids flutter and she looks unfairly beautiful in the club's dim lights.
"Uh, I probably shouldn't. I'm supposed to drive…" she says, offering me a small, almost coy smile.
The spread of her lips jolts my lust awake, and I think of as many disgusting things as possible in rapid succession so the pressure beneath the waistband of my trousers disappears.
I nod at her when finally I can see straight. "Understandable," I say, attempting to muffle my own smile. "I'll be right back," I tell her, and slip away to the bar.
It may not be as crowded inside the Grill as it was on Hallowe'en, but the bar is overrun by women calling to the attractive, blond bartender, who looks flustered and out of his depth. He doesn't see me at first. Too busy being flirted with.
"What can I get you?" He asks when he's able to pull away from the crowd of salacious women. Most of whom don't even look old enough to drink.
"Bourbon, on the rocks," I say, surprised at the hint of civility in my tone. I'm usually gruff with bartenders, but this man seems tired and worn. A man can only take so much attention from overzealous women before he feels ready to expire.
The bartender smiles at me and gets to work fixing my dink. He takes his sweet time on the simple order, probably taking note of the long line of new female customers pressing their breasts against the bar.
"Well, hello Mr. Mikaelson," a sultry voice says next to me.
I look down, shocked that anyone besides my sister and Caroline know my name here, but I quickly notice it's one of my patients.
"Hayley," I say by way of greeting.
Hayley's always been a bit too handsy for my taste. And I've got a strict rule about not sleeping with my clientele. But Hayley never seems to give up.
She's essentially a more aggressive version of Camille.
"What brings you here?" She asks, sipping her fruity-scented drink through a straw. She bats her eyelashes at me seductively.
My immediate instinct is to say Caroline, but I hold my breath and instead say, "My sister invited me."
"How nice of her," Hayley says, scooting closer. She smells of too much perfume and far too much alcohol, and I feel the sudden urge to throw up.
"Drink, sir," the bartender says upon returning. He places a small glass filled with amber liquid and three pieces of ice in front of me.
"Thank you…" I pause, waiting for him to fill the silence with his name.
"Oh, uh, Matt," He says, mouth pulling into a thankful smile.
I wonder how many people actually thank him, let alone ask for his name. Honestly, I'm not even sure why I asked. He just looked helpless. And friendly.
Caroline has been a bad influence, always being polite to our servers when I join her and Rebekah for meals. Since when do I care about strangers?
"Thank you, Matt," I say, bowing my head slightly.
"So, Klaus," Hayley says when I begin walking away. I groan inwardly and roll my eyes. I look for Matt, maybe for help, but he's gone. Aiding some drunk-looking redhead. "I was wondering when I'm needed next."
I scrunch my eyebrows. "Needed for what?"
"Well, when you need me next."
"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask sharply, growing more uncomfortable by the second. Hayley's got that look in her eyes I know all too well. A woman slightly inebriated, finding herself in the company of a handsome man who just so happens to be wealthy. Bonus points if she knows you and has been trying to sleep with you for some time.
It's as if I've finally given her the right opportunity to lure me into her bed by showing up here tonight. Maybe she thinks she's going to get lucky.
I take a quick gulp of my drink, appreciating the burn as it creeps like silk down my throat.
"Silly," Hayley laughs, swatting my arm. I jerk back instinctively. "My next appointment. For my teeth."
Oh. Right.
"Hayley, you're not scheduled to have another appointment for five months. I saw you just three weeks ago."
You remember, don't you? When you blindly reached for my crotch after nearly biting my finger off when Camille accidentally squirted water in your eyes?
Maybe it wasn't such an accident. Camille has always been jealous of the brunettes that come into my life. She's never seen me with a blonde. Well, not until Caroline.
"Okay, yeah, but I've got this awful toothache."
Liar, I want to say. But I hold back. I've often found Hayley attractive, but tonight she's doing nothing but grating my nerves as she stands dressed in a tight, revealing black dress that she looks far too uncomfortable in to be considered sexy.
Maybe my near-revulsion is due to the fact that I've left Caroline for too long on her own. Who knows if some other attractive, rich, British man has already taken his place beside her?
Feeling a rush of unease at the thought, I swivel my neck in search of a puff of blonde hair. I spot her standing where I left her, alone minus my sister. They appear to be laughing at something.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
"I checked your teeth three weeks ago, Hayley. Unless you've been on a sweets binge since then, your teeth are fine and the ache should go away by itself."
"And if it doesn't?" She says when I make to push off the bar for the second time since she cornered me.
"Call the office in a week and I'll have Camille pencil you in for an appointment."
Hayley touches my arm again. Only this time she clutches it in her long, spider-leg-like fingers. "Thank you," she purrs, and I want to open my mouth and scream.
"Hey, Klaus, I changed my mind about that drink."
I whip my head around so fast I see stars shining on Caroline's gorgeous face. She glances between me and Hayley—lingering on the hand encapsulating my bicep— three times before her eyes land on mine. She smiles, wide.
Hayley's grip on my arm tightens. "Klaus, who's this?"
Caroline offers Hayley her hand before I can say anything and introduces herself. "I'm Caroline."
Hayley is forced to remove her claws from my arm lest she come off as a rude, cold bitch. She is a rude, cold bitch, but I'm sure she doesn't want everyone knowing.
"About that drink," Caroline says when she lets go of Hayley.
"R-right," I stutter embarrassingly. "What was it?"
"G and T," she says.
I turn towards the bar, thankful that Matt is close by. "Can I get a G and T?" I holler.
"Sure, man," Matt says, facing him. His eyes light up. "Oh, hey Care." He flicks his wrist at Caroline.
"Hi, Matt. How are you?"
A spike of jealousy runs through me. I guzzle the last of my drink and slam the glass down on the counter.
I'm not used to this feeling, and I severely dislike it.
"I'm good. How about you?" I hear Matt ask.
Hayley's been pushed away from me by a horde of thirsty college girls. I can see her sulkily making her way back to her group of friends.
"Good, good," Caroline answers. "This is my friend, Klaus," she adds, and my ears perk up at the sound of my name cascading out of her mouth.
"So," Matt says, sounding sly. "This is Klaus."
The unfamiliar jealousy leaves my body, replaced entirely by smugness. "You've spoken about me?"
"You fixed my tooth," she says in explanation. "I was singing my praise."
She sounds calm, but I swear I see a new tinge of pink mar her smooth cheeks.
"That, and she likes your accent," Matt mutters, loud enough for both myself and Caroline to hear.
I immediately decide I want to be friends with Matt.
"My accent, huh?"
"Oh, stop ganging up on me!" Caroline whines, and she sounds so adorable when she's flustered. "I don't know why I'm friends with you," she says, glaring at Matt.
"Because I saved you from a vicious spider attack when we were six. You owe me your life," Matt says.
So they've known each other for nearly two decades. Surely if something were to have happened, it would have happened by now. Right?
I hope so. I don't feel up to competing with an All-American. Matt definitely looks like he could pummel me into the ground.
Christ, I'm being paranoid. And when did I start describing incredibly attractive women as adorable?
"Yeah, I suppose I do," Caroline concedes, taking her drink when Matt hands it to her. I notice neither make any effort to touch hands, and another chunk of icy jealousy melts away.
"See you around," Matt says kindly. "And Klaus, it was nice to finally put a face to the name."
"Um, yes. Thanks for the drink," I say, flustered. "It was nice to meet you too."
Caroline leads the way back to Bekah, head shaking. The parts of her back visible between the strands of her hair appear shaded pink.
She's embarrassed.
Is that a good sign?
The women I used to spend my time with didn't often get embarrassed. I'm not quite sure what to make of it.
"You know, I went over there to save you from Hayley, but I'm kind of regretting it now."
"You know Hayley?" I ask, ignoring the rush that runs through me at her words. She wanted to rescue me from another women. "She didn't know you."
We've reached my sister. Bekah looks at me funnily, and I frown at her.
"Uh, yeah. She kind of ruined my last relationship. Never met me."
I want to ask what happened, my curiosity nearly getting the better of me, but I refrain. I probably don't know her well enough to be privy to that sort of information.
"But anyway," Caroline says. "Bekah here was telling me about that one time back in England when you accidentally shot a bird with your dad's hunting rifle. Care to expand on that story?"
.1.
Neither of us is drunk, but I feel maybe we are. I have a fuzziness spreading like roots through my whole body, like I'm hopped up on Nyquil, down for the count with a horrendous cold. And Caroline. She's swaying to the loud music, which seems to have only gotten louder as the time's gone by.
Bekah's at the bar currently, talking animatedly to Matt. Hand gestures and everything. She only uses hand gestures when she's got a crush on someone. Thankfully Matt—who seems less tense now that two other bartenders have shown up—looks profoundly interested in what Bekah's saying, which makes me question what she's saying to him. And also his sanity, because I've never seen anyone look at my little sister with so much fascination.
"Your sister's got the biggest crush on Matt. It's so cute," Caroline says, swaying. I want to reach out and grab her, wrap my fingers around her waist and pull her to me. Hug her, kiss her, lick her.
"I guessed as much," I say. "Not sure about how 'cute' it is, though."
Caroline swats my arm, similar to Hayley, but this touch is welcome and wanted. "Oh, relax. He's kinda in love with her too. She may get all those numbers, all the time, and he may be surrounded by screaming fans, but they genuinely care about each other."
"Why haven't they taken the plunge into coupledom then?" I ask, acutely aware of the similarities between Matt and my sister, and Caroline and me.
"They're scared," Caroline says nonchalantly, throwing her hair over one shoulder. Her creamy, delicious-looking shoulder. I bet she tastes of salt.
"Of what?" I ask, my eyes glued to Caroline's exposed flesh.
"Of everything. Relationships are terrifying, Klaus. You know that better than any of us, I think."
I peek at Caroline. "What does that mean?"
"Well, you're afraid of commitment because your first girlfriend tore your world apart by cheating on you. You know how suspenseful dating can be. How awful the fear of heartbreak is."
Once upon a time, I would have lashed out. Yelled at this girl for what she's just said.
But she's right. And I see no point in arguing with her.
Except I'm not so scared right now, of commitment. Not with Caroline standing in her pouffy dress right in front of me.
Caroline glances at the ceiling above our heads. I see her throat convulse as she swallows. My mouth dries at the sight.
When she looks at me again she's not breathing. We're so squished in this damn club that when she moves closer to me, our chests bump. The touch sends a shiver of want down my spine. It gathers in my belly and steadily effects my need for release. A release that's been building for months.
"What is it?" I ask.
Caroline lifts her eyes to the ceiling briefly once more. "Mistletoe," she breathes. She smells of gin. I've always loved gin.
I've been imagining for months now how it would feel to finally kiss Caroline. Her lips are always plump and pink. Always taunting me. It's gotten to the point that I've found her in my dreams.
But nothing—not a million kisses with a million other women, not Katherine, not anything—could have prepared me for the moment Caroline tilted her chin up and let her lips drag across mine as we stood, swaying, beneath the mistletoe.
Her lips are there, on mine, sucking and clamping. Her hands curl around my neck, play with my hair, push my mouth closer.
I feel a surge of hunger gallop underneath my flesh. I close my eyes and grasp Caroline's waist with my hands, pressing our bodies together. I gasp when my pelvis meets her lower belly. Her hip bones jut against the pockets of my slacks.
I don't know where I am. Who I am. All I know is there is this girl—this spectacular, wonderful, beautiful girl—kissing me, and I know I never want it to stop.
It doesn't last very long, though, and soon the warmth of her lips leave mine. I can taste the gin on my bottom lip as I swipe my tongue along it.
Her hands unwind from my neck after a couple of tortuous seconds, and I quickly follow by letting go of the dip of her waste.
"Mistletoe," she rasps.
I look up, noticing the dangling leaves. My fingers trace my sensitised lips and I smile despite my best efforts not to. When I return my focus to Caroline, I see she's smiling too.
"Why haven't you called Caroline?" Rebekah asks coldly.
Christmas has passed and, after a horrible, drunken accident at our parents house during their Christmas Eve party, Bekah has been forced to stay with me.
Why Elijah couldn't take her in, I do not know.
I shift awkwardly, disliking Bekah's intrusive question. I take a swig of tea to stall.
"What do you mean?" I ask, though I know exactly what she means.
Rebekah smacks me over the head with the magazine she's been reading before returning to her breakfast. "She told me about the kiss! And then you said you'd call her, and you haven't called her!"
Guilt—new and ugly to me—slips its way into my bones. I shiver.
After the kiss, Caroline had to leave. Something about needing to see her mother first thing in the morning.
I'd still been on a high from the feel of her lips on mine, but I managed to ask her if she was well enough to drive. It reminded me so much of the first time we met, of how much had happened—how many platonic-but-infused-with-definitely-not-platonic-feelings things had happened—since then, that I freaked out.
I don't feel things for women. They are play toys. Scratches to itches.
There are no exception to those rules.
I haven't called her yet. Because she really was right when she said I was afraid of commitment. It seems even Caroline can't cure me of that.
She told me she was fine to drive and I watched her car disappear from view, and now I live in a constant state of guilt and unease.
The dentistry is closed until after New Years, which seems like an awful choice on my part now. Seeing as I don't have Camille or my patients to distract me from my woes.
I only have Rebekah, who is dead set on making me talk about my problems.
"Well, Nik? Why haven't you called her?"
From the moment I began admiring Caroline, I never thought about her friendship with my sister. If anything their closeness was a plus for me because it meant I could see Caroline more. But I'm realising I should've stayed far away from any friend of Rebekah's, especially her best friend.
I don't have to worry only about hurting Caroline. I also have to worry about Bekah's violent wrath.
"Come on, Nik! You knew she liked you!" Bekah whinges, smacking me again.
"Would you stop doing that?" I bark. "I'm trying to eat."
Like the mature adult she is, Bekah responds to my request by hitting me repeatedly. "I'll stop when you answer me!" She says, landing a hard slap on my cheek.
"Ow, fine, fine!" I say, but she doesn't stop. I sigh, but it turns into a grunt when Bekah catches a bruise on my chin still there from when a young boy didn't appreciate me poking around his mouth. "Fine! Bekah, stop it! I haven't called her because I don't know what to say!"
The magazine falls, landing on my marmalade-lathered toast.
Bekah looks at my ruined breakfast and then at me. She smiles apologetically. "Oops. Sorry Nik." Her face hardens in the blink of an eye. She frightens me with her mercurial tendencies. "What do you mean you didn't know what to say? How about, 'Hey, that was a really nice kiss—wanna go on a date sometime?'"
"First of all, I do not sound like that," I accuse, strangling fear coiling around my throat. I'm beginning to sweat. "And secondly, I would never say that."
"Of course you'd never say that! You've never asked a girl out before in your entire life!"
"What? That's not true. I've asked out plenty of girls!"
"Yeah, to your bedroom."
I scrunch my nose. I don't like hearing Bekah talk about my previous conquests.
"Katherine was your only girlfriend, Nik. And it's been, what, nearly fifteen years since you two broke up?" Bekah asks, but I know she's got the date Katherine and I split memorised. "You like Caroline. I know you do. And she really, really likes you. Why else do you think I 'accidentally' invited you both out to eat so many fucking times!"
I point my finger and shout, "Aha! We were right…" But I let my sentence drag off.
"Yeah, Nik. Congratulations," Bekah deadpans. "Tell me why you haven't called her. Really."
"I told you!" I say. "I don't know what to say to her."
"Ugh, Niklaus!" Bekah shrieks. She never uses my full first name. She must be incredibly pissed off. "What the fuck did Katherine do to you that's got you like this? A new girl every night won't cure you of it, Nik, I promise."
I roll my eyes. "She slept with Marcel, Bekah. Repeatedly. I found them a few days before we were scheduled to leave," I say, expecting to feel some weight disappear now that I've told her. But I don't feel anything "lift." I just feel . . . empty.
"What?" Bekah gasps, wide-eyed.
"Yes. She cheated. Do you see now why I'm not so sure about ever having a serious girlfriend again?" I pick the magazine off my toast and scrape the marmalade off the paper with my knife, spreading it back on the toast. I take a bite and chew until all I can hear is the chomping of my teeth.
"But . . . but you didn't tell us—"
"—Of course I didn't tell you. It's pathetic and somewhat embarrassing."
"Pathetic and embarrassing?" Rebekah places a gentle hand on my wrist, her anger dissipating. "No it isn't, Nik. It's heartbreaking, sure. And awful of her. God, I hate her!"
"Twelve years, Bekah," I remind her. "I didn't tell you this to get your pity. I told you so you'd understand."
"I . . . I haven't known for fifteen years! I've known for five seconds. This is still news to me, big brother. Give me a moment to process this," she says.
I finish my toast while Bekah "processes" the information regarding Katherine's infidelity, and stand to make myself another slice. The last one tasted a bit too much like ink and hatred.
"So, is that why whenever we've visited England in the past you refuse to contact Marcel?" Bekah asks five minutes later.
The toaster dings and I contemplate my answer as I slide the toast onto my plate. I turn around and lean against the kitchen counter, folding my arms over my chest.
"Yes," I say simply.
"And why that one time we thought we saw Katherine at Sainsbury's you ducked the cart until we realised it was just her sister?"
Deciding my toast is done cooling off, I turn once more and spread butter and marmalade over the golden bread.
"Yes," I say again.
"And why you're afraid of committing to Caroline?"
That one throws me off kilter. I nearly slice my thumb with the knife.
"Not just Caroline," I say, "but, essentially, yes."
Bekah's silent for a moment. I eat my slice of toast at the counter, refusing to look at her.
"It's not really my place to tell you this," Bekah says. I listen intently. "But Caroline's ex cheated on her too. With that awful patient of yours, Hayley. Caroline's been in the same boat as you as far as commitment issues go, minus all the sleeping around."
Of course.
This explains why Caroline's been so helpful when it comes to my trust issues. Why she's been saying more and more that my depression seems to be fading.
Because she's been through it all before.
"You're the first guy in five years she's managed to look at without wanting to cut of his dick."
"Don't say that word," I order automatically.
"Why not? Dick. Dick, dick, dick," she taunts.
"Because it sounds weird coming out of your mouth," I say, cringing. Then, "The first guy?"
Bekah's mood softens. "In five years. That's the trouble with small towns like this one, Nik. It's not often you meet a new man."
I have found it odd that mine and Caroline's paths hadn't crossed before Bekah introduced us, however drunkenly. Especially considering her friendship with Bekah. And the fact that I've lived here twelve years.
I wonder if I've seen her. If I saw her when she was still in high school, clothed in the cheerleading uniform I've heard so much about.
I wonder if she saw me.
The door swings open less than thirty seconds after I knock. Caroline stands on the other side, wearing an apron. She looks tousled and there's flour covering her clothes and hands. Her hair sits like a ball on top of her head, but instead of looking tacky, she looks mesmerising.
"Hi," she says quietly. She wipes her hands on her apron, but I don't think it helps.
"Hello," I respond. I think I'd forgotten how beautiful she was.
But here she is, breathtakingly stunning.
"Do you want to come in?" She asks eventually, opening the door wider.
I nod and slink inside, jumping when the door closes. I turn to face Caroline. I'm beyond nervous. Shaking, I think.
Caroline's blue eyes stare at with me with wonder, and she speaks before I'm ready for her to.
"Why didn't you call?"
"I don't know."
"That's a lie."
She's quick. I have to give her credit for that. And she isn't taking any of my shit.
"Okay," I acquiesce. "I do know."
Caroline started moving about her tiny kitchen. I've never been to her apartment before, but when I called and asked to see her she gave me the address and room number right away.
The flat is small. One bedroom. Barely any moving about space. It suits her completely.
I watch as she opens her oven and removes a tray of cookies. They smell like heaven.
"Why?" She says without looking at me. She places the tray on her clean counter and finally catches my eye.
I say nothing. I don't think I can.
"Okay," she breathes, and I imagine she's trying to hold in her anger.
I'm acting like a child. Bekah would not be pleased with me.
"Tell me you meant it, Klaus," she begs softly. Almost tiredly. "Tell me you felt what I did."
I laugh. "You don't know what you're asking."
Caroline thwacks her hands on her apron. Flour flies in the air like chalk dust. "Seriously, why are you so afraid of this? I thought, I don't know, that we had some weird . . . connection thing. Am I wrong?"
"I'm not afraid," I say, answering only one portion of her question. Coward, coward, coward.
"For fuck's sake! Then tell me!" Caroline cries, her face growing red.
And I'm afraid. I am afraid.
"Of course I felt something!" I almost shout, overwhelmed. By every fucking thing that's happened to me since Katherine cut my heart from my chest. I cast my eyes downward.
Quieter, I say, "Yes, okay? Alright? I admit it, I like you." Not only am I acting like a child, but I sound like one too.
This day just gets better and better.
I hear laughter. Fits of giggles that implode into a full-on laugh-attack. Alarmed, I search Caroline's face frantically. Her eyes are welled with tears that she fights to keep them from trickling down her cheeks.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" She says when she's calmed down. She swipes her forehead with the sleeve of her red, Christmas-themed jumper and moves in front of me, just as she did back at The Grill, before everything fell apart in my hands.
"I'm scared too, you know," she whispers against the hairs covering my chin. Oh, her breath is like sugar. "And I'm sort of angry that you didn't call, but I understand, because I'm scared too."
"You don't seem scared," I say, obscenely aware of how close our bodies are.
She steps away from me, and I want to pull her back, but I don't when I see she's removing her apron. Folding it neatly on the counter, she returns and grabs my hand. I hold my breath as she moves it beneath her sweater. Her skin is warm. Too hot. And so smooth. She stops our hands once I feel something lacy jam against my fingers.
"Feel that?" She asks softly.
"What, your bra? Yes."
"No, you idiot," she reprimands, but I see she's smiling. "My heartbeat."
"Oh, that," I say. "I can feel that too." It's quick, jutting into the tips of my fingers.
"You've ruined me Klaus," she says, and that sounds bad, so I try to take my hand back. But she holds it in place. "Since we met, I've not been able to sleep properly. Eating's like a chore now. What are you doing to me?"
I can't stand it anymore. Our distance. Because even though I'm touching her, right below her breast, and the feel of her skin is turning me on, we just aren't close enough.
She's mad, but I can fix that. With time, or with kisses. Or therapy, maybe. But she's also nervous, and afraid. And I can deal with that, because I am too.
Dammit, Niklaus. You're thirty. Get a grip.
That request seems impossible, though. I can't get a grip.
With my hand still plastered to Caroline's torso, I steadily dip my head and gently—oh so incredibly gently—press my lips to hers.
Instantly, she responds, her teeth sinking calmly into my lower lip. I groan against my best efforts to hold the sound in my throat.
Caroline breaks away first, my mouth still puckered and searching for hers. Soundlessly, she claps our foreheads together and exhales. Neither of us open our eyes.
"I'm terrified," she says. "Bekah said she told you about my ex."
"Bastard," I say, and she giggles. "Slow, I think. We should take this slow. Very, very slow. No rushing into anything."
I unlock my eyelids and find hers already open.
"Okay, I can agree to those terms."
"Good," I smile, slipping my hand out from under her jumper.
We unwind ourselves and Caroline goes to her abandoned cookies, scraping them onto a plate. She sets aside two, picks them up, and offers one to me. She takes a bite of the other one.
I suppose I should feel like I've just made a major breakthrough. The Bad-Boy turned Good. It's been a long time coming, though. The process started the moment I saw Caroline Forbes in her tooth-fairy getup, knees bare and face pulled into a scowl.
"I bake when I'm upset," she says, eyeing the cookie in my hand.
"I'm sorry I upset you," I offer belatedly. "For a thirty-year-old, I have a lot of the habits of a three-year-old."
"I don't know many three-year-olds who can kiss like you."
Sinking my teeth into the cookie, I shake my head. "Do you kiss lots three-year-olds?"
Caroline blushes. "That," she says, pointing an accusatory finger at me, "is definitely not what I meant."
"No," I say, haughty, "you meant that I'm an exceptional kisser."
Ignoring my comment, Caroline grabs a tub of pre-made icing from her refrigerator. "Wanna help me ice the cookies?"
And that's where Rebekah finds us, an hour later. In Caroline's kitchen, icing batch after batch of cookies and wearing matching grins on our faces as a result of a rude joke here and there, like we're lifelong lovers caught up in a storm of sugar and exposed emotions.
Not two almost strangers bound by their shared heartbreak.
Epilogue—Six Months Later
I lave my tongue against the seam of Caroline's sex, grinning when I feel her tug at my curls.
"Oh, god, you're too good with that thing," she moans, writhing. Her hips jerk along with my tongue.
My fingers find their place buried inside her wet warmth, and I think I hear her scream above the blood pounding in my ears. I remove my mouth and kiss the inside of her thigh.
"Shh," I whisper into her heated skin. "My sister might wake up."
"I don't give a fuck," Caroline says, moaning loudly again when I twist my fingers. I pull them out and clutch her ankles, pushing her legs apart.
Staring down at her completely undone and in my bed, I'm stunned by how lucky I am. I thought Katherine had destroyed any chance of me finding happiness, but all it took was one very amazing Caroline Forbes to thaw my cold heart.
That's not to say in the six months we've been together we've not had our troubles. Fights, though sporadic, are terrible with her. We're both stubborn, hotheaded people. Giving in is never an option. Sometimes the arguments get so bad we end up not speaking for a day or two. Or until one of us decides that being cold and lonely isn't worth always being right.
When that happens, we find comfort in each other's arms. In each other's hidden talents.
Bekah says Caroline's turned me into a moron. I can't really tell her she's wrong, either. Which sort of pisses me off.
But I'm happy, which is something I haven't been in a long time.
"Klaus," Caroline groans.
I realise I've been staring at her naked body for too long. Biting my lip, I brace myself and push into Caroline until her bottom touches my thighs.
Our elated sighs come out in unison.
"God, Klaus, you teased me enough last night," Caroline complains. "Just hurry up. Please. We promised we'd get Matt and Rebekah bagels this morning."
I bend over, my lips hovering over Caroline's, and remain still. It's a struggle though. I'm being squeezed and the pleasure is almost too much to handle.
"A new rule," I mutter under my breath. I bring my hand up to cup Caroline's cheek and smooth my thumb against her red skin. "No talking about my sister and her boyfriend while we're having sex. It does nothing for me."
Caroline simply nods her head, and I bend the final inch to kiss her, opening her mouth with my invasive tongue. When she's relaxed under me, I pick up my pace until we're covered in sweat. Until our breathing is ragged and desperate. Until I see nothing but Caroline.
Later, I comb her wet hair as she sits in my lap. Her body is facing mine, her legs wrapped around my waist. She always looks so young after we've showered.
"Do you know that I love you?" She says. Her fingers press into the skin above my heart, right where my new tattoo is. "Even if you did taint your pretty skin with this monstrosity."
The comb snags on a knot in Caroline's hair and she squeals, slapping my chest. "Monstrosity?" I say. "You picked the damn thing out."
"Yeah, but I didn't know you were gonna do it."
I release the knot with the comb and hold in a laugh. "We were in the tattoo parlour. I was shirtless and in a chair. What made you think I wasn't going to do it?"
"It's a bird's feather," she says through a childish giggle. "And it's . . . fading . . . into a stream of birds."
"I don't get what's so funny about it. You were fairly adamant about me getting it when you pointed to it."
"But it's so . . . girly."
"Okay, that's it," I growl, unlatching her legs from around my waist and pushing her into my mattress. I hold her arms down, watching in awe as she shrieks and pants and squirms.
I kiss her, because I've never been able to help myself when she looks like this. Like she's trapped in a state of pure and constant euphoria.
Six months we've been together. It seems like it's been longer.
It seems like it's not been long enough.
"You didn't answer my question," she says, lips swollen and wet, when I pull away.
"Your question…?" I goad, bending to graze her pale neck with my teeth.
She shivers. Her skin breaks out in goosebumps. "I love you," she says.
"I know," I say, and I really do know. Painfully. Caroline's love for me punches me in the gut whenever she looks at me. Touches me. Slides her body over mine, onto mine. "I love you too."
It's not so scary nowadays, saying these things to her. It was in the beginning, when we first realised how deep we were buried in the mess of our own feelings.
But it got easier. Slowly and steadily.
And now I can love her without fear.
"Would you have preferred fairy wings?" I ask as we lie in my bed. We've not moved in together, but more often than not our nights are spent in one or the other's bed.
"Fairy wings?" She repeats into my chest.
I breathe in the scent of her blonde hair, admiring the way it looks fanned across my skin. "Instead of the feather."
Caroline starts tracing the tattoo again. "Why fairy wings?"
"Because the first night we met you were dressed as the tooth-fairy."
"And you were dressed as a dentist," she says wistfully. She kisses my ribcage and I start to tremble.
"I am a dentist."
"Yeah," Caroline scoffs. She kisses me again, over my heart this time. Her eyes meet mine, and in the dark her eyes shine the way they did on Hallowe'en. I can't look away. "And I'm the tooth-fairy."
The End
A/N 2: Well...? Klaus wasn't too mushy, was he?
Again, thank you so much!
Until next time, fellow Klaroline lovers!
LoveIsATemple
